


Funeral Hill

by Lunargypsy



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BotFA spoilers - Freeform, LoTR spoilers, M/M, Sad, Trees, acrons, oakenshield - Freeform, sad so verry sad, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunargypsy/pseuds/Lunargypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was after the snow melted before Bilbo could plant the Acorn. And when he did, his heart nearly split in two.<br/>I am actual fandom trash and browsed kaciart and found this so here i am being trash, inspired by this http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/105921249158</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funeral Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).
  * Inspired by [unknown](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/149911) by kaciart. 



> I am trash, the art is wonderful, here let me make you cry, since that is apparently all I can do

Bilbo glanced out the window and saw what he had been waiting for. Green. Bright colorful green stretched across the expanse of the Shire and the blue of the Water in the distance. He took in a deep breathe and went to fetch a trowel. He tucked it into his belt and took up the little wooden box. He went outside and climbed up his house and kicked a few clumps of dirt off the top of his hill. He took in a deep breathe and started digging, going six inches down and three inches around. the ground was still a tad stiff from the winter and once he had finished the hole, he stopped and looked out over his Home.  
Everything was quiet and peaceful, farmers starting to plant and gardeners mixing soil. Children played in the new grass and mothers and grandmothers gossiped happily. Bilbo took in a deep breathe of Shire air and closed his eyes. Ah. Home. He let it out and kept his eyes closed. Sometimes, if he concentrated he could smell other things. Stench of trolls caves, sweet Elven wines, underground torches, bear honey, dead forests and metal. And blood. Even now, months after the battle, Bilbo could smell the stench of Battle.It was wild, sweat and blood and metal and orc stench. It was loud too. Screams of dying men, battle cries, calls for help. And at the end, a cracked, choked voice like thunder and crackling fires.  
Bilbo's eyes snapped open and he jabbed his trowel into the ground roughly. He was breathing heavily, eyes stinging and he sniffed hugely.  
"No, no no." he mumbled and picked up the carved wooden box. he snapped it open and he stared inside. A small round acorn was inside, simple and plain, yet the sight filled Bilbo with more memories. One's of huge bees and ponies tossing their manes. Sticky spider webs and drooling pincers. Heavy Elven levers and rolling barrels he nearly drowned gripping onto. Shouting people and dragon fires that lit whole mountain forges. And then a small smile with warm blue eyes cleared of madness. Which resolved into tears and horror, hatred spilling from trembling lips.  
Bilbo closed the box suddenly, looking at the sky and clenching his jaw. He took in a shaky breathe and then too the acorn out of the box and placed it tenderly in the ground. He layered the dirt onto the acorn and his hands started to shake. He braced himself with a hand as his shoulder's trembles. He wasn't just burying the acorn. He was burying memories. memories of mountain songs and shimmering gifts. Daring rescues and glances to make sure, just to double check, he was right there, just right there. He took in a shaking breathe as the last of the dirt filled the hole and when he let the breathe out he was crying. He covered his eyes and sobbed, tears sliding through his fingers and dribbling down his wrists and staining his cuff. He hunched over and shook. Thorin was buried here on Bag End along with the acorn, and Bilbo...Bilbo had that feeling hanging over his head for a long, long time. 

Bilbo was nearly out of Hobbiton when the feeling hit him. It took him to a grinding halt. He-he needed to go back! He needed it! He ran back, faster than a man his age should have run. When he had left the Ring with Gandalf he had been sure, so sure that he was forgetting something. He had chalked it up to old habits. He even had a pocket handkerchief. But no he had left it! He needed it! He skidded to a halt and pushed open his gate climbing the steps quickly. He needed it now!  
Bilbo scaled the hill and stood beneath the oak tree, looking up among it's branches. He turned wildly, looking for one. But no...no it was too early still for acorns. Tears rose up in his eyes. Oh...oh well...not that it mattered...no. He turned to lave when something small and hard bounced on his head and landed between his feet. He stooped and picked up the little acorn. The first of the season, brown and ready for planting. Bilbo pocketed it with a relieved smile and started off again, winding among paths he knew for so long and out again to one's he would never forget. Never. 

When Bilbo arrived in Rivendell, he asked of Elrond a favor and the elf smiled and bowed in consent. Bilbo found a quiet spot in the gardens and dug with a small shovel, placing the acorn in the ground. He hiccuped away tears and smiled wearily. He sat by the small growing hing often as it sprung high and tall, enhanced with magic, no doubt. He would laugh often at how Thorin would cowl that his tree was in an Elvish garden. For really, it was Thorin's tree after all. But this laughter would dissolve into tears, and Bilbo would cover his eyes in shake. As Baggins continued to age he was often under he tree, sitting with his back against it with an old map or a book, sometimes whispering softly into the air or petting a root absently, as old folk will with their plants. When he grew too old to be let wander about the grounds on his own, Elrond had his room moved so Bilbo could see the tree from his bed through his window. 

Bilbo woke up one morning to an Elf's gentle touch.  
"Master Baggins? You need to awaken for your journey." Ah yes...Elrond was taking him somewhere...Bilbo dressed and searched his night stand for another pocket handkerchief. He was hobbling purposefully with his walking stick when Ellrodir found him.  
"Master Baggins, you're going the wrong way." he said kindly.  
"Tosh I need it." Bilbo said shaking his white head and hobbled out into the garden. he returned a minute later with an acorn in his hand. "Now we can go." he nodded at Ellrodir, who bit his lip and nodded, eyes misted. Bilbo sat in the wagon, with one hand in his pocket, touching the acorn absently. He hand one hand in his pocket the whole journey and when he arrived in the undying lands he set out on his own, in search for something. No one followed him as Gandalf stilled Frodo's protests and Galadriel exchanged knowing looks with Elrond. 

The funniest thing about the Undying lands, is that it means what it says. Once there, one does not age or die, in fact on occasion the opposite occurs and one might grow young again. This is how it was with Bilbo Baggins Esquire. His hair was a cinnamon sugar color and he had less wrinkles and more spring in his step. he'd often go off for days and come back with a map of the places he'd explored. Other times he'd leave after breakfast and come back around dinner whistling absently with puffy eyes. one day a curious Elf followed him. The Girl, who knew only of Baggin's reputation found him sitting under a huge oak tree that the Valar hadn't planted. Bilbo was talking to it as if it would answer him but unless it was an ancient tree that would not occur. Yet he talked. The Elf watched curiously until he started to cry and she panicked.  
"Please, sir, don't cry. It's not t=your fault the tree won't answer." She said springing from her hiding place. Bilbo was taken by surprise.  
"That's-" his voice cracked. "Hem. That's not why I'm crying. I just...I had a...a friend, who I can't see anymore. Ever. Now that I'm here."  
"He's dead?" the elf asked curiously. Bilbo nodded. "Who was he?" Bilbo laughed.  
"No that, is a long story." he sighed and the elf looked at him expectantly. "Really?"  
"We have all the time in the world here." the elf said and Bilbo smiled.  
"I suppose we do. It starts as one might expect. From the comfort of home. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit."


End file.
